you also taking Quetta into your consideration?”
“I have not as yet quite made up my mind. In any case, I mean to take
the shortest way back to our army.”
“If that is so, I would suggest Quetta. Most probably the Russian main
army will turn southwards. Their first objective will probably be Herat.
The best roads from the north and north-west converge on that point.
It is the meeting-place of the caravan roads from India, Persia, and
Turkestan. In Herat a large army can be concentrated, for it is situated
in fertile country. Once your advance guard is firmly established,
60,000 men can be conveyed there in a relatively short time. If the
English advance to Kandahar the collision between the forces will take
place at that point. But the Russians will outnumber the English so
greatly that the latter will hardly venture the march upon Kandahar.
Reinforced by the Afghan forces, General Ivanov, with 100,000 men, can
push on without hindrance to the Bolan Pass.”
“If he should succeed,” said the Prince, “the way would then be open for
him to the valley of the Indus. For England would be unable to hold the
Pass against such a force.”
“Is it really so difficult to cross the Pass, as it is said to be?”
inquired Heideck.
“The Pass is about fifty versts in length. In 1839 the Bengal corps of
the Indus army advanced through it against the Afghan army, and managed
without difficulty to take with them twenty-four-pound howitzers as well
as eighteen-pound field guns.”
“If I remember rightly they arrived, without having met with any
opposition worth mentioning, at Kandahar, and occupied the whole of
Afghanistan. But, in spite of this, they finally suffered a disastrous
defeat. Of their 15,000 men only 4,500 succeeded in returning in
precipitate flight through the Khyber Pass back to India.”
Prince Tchajawadse laughed ironically.
“Fifteen thousand? Yes, if one can trust English sources of information!
But I can assure you, according to better information, that the English
in 1839 advanced upon Afghanistan with no less than 21,000 combatants
and a transport of 70,000 men and 60,000 camels. They marched through
the Bolan Pass, took Kandahar and Ghazni, entered Cabul, and placed
Shah Shuja upon the throne. They did not suffer any decisive defeat in
battle, but a general insurrection of the Afghans drove them from their
positions and entirely wiped out their force.”
“I admire your memory, Prince!”
“Oh! all this we are obliged to have off by heart in the General Staff
College, if we are not to be miserably ploughed in examination. In
November, 1878, we were rather weak in Central Asia through having to
devote all our resources to bringing the war with Turkey to a close, and
so the English again entered Afghanistan. They meant to take advantage
of our embarrassments to bring the country entirely under their
suzerainty. They advanced in three columns by way of the Bolan Pass, the
Kuram Valley, and the Khyber Pass. But on this occasion too they were
unable to stand their ground, and had to retire with great loss. No
Power will ever be able to establish itself in Afghanistan without the
sympathies of the natives on its side. And the sympathies of the Afghans
are on our side. We understand how to manage these people; the English
are solely infidels in their eyes.”
“Do you believe that Russia merely covets the buffer-state Afghanistan,
or do its intentions go further?”
“Oh, my dear comrade, at present we mean India. For more than a hundred
years past we have had our eye on this rich country. The final aim of
all our conquests in Central Asia has been India. As early as 1801 the
Emperor Paul commanded the Hetman of the army of the Don, Orlov, to
march upon the Ganges with 22,000 Cossacks. It is true that the campaign
at that time was considered a far simpler matter than it really is. The
Emperor died, and his venturesome plan was not proceeded with. During
the Crimea General Kauffmann offered to conquer India with 25,000 men.
But nothing came of this project. Since then ideas have changed. We have
seen that only a gradual advance can lead us to our objective. And we
have not lost time. In the west we have approached Herat, until now we
are only about sixty miles away, and in the east, in the Pamirs, we have
pushed much nearer still to India.”
“It is most interesting to hear all this. I have done my best to get at
the lie of the land, but till now the Pamir frontiers have always been a
mystery to me.”
“They mystify most people, you will find. Only a person who has been
there can understand the situation. And he who has been there does not
know the frontier line either, for there is, in fact, no exact boundary.
The Pamir plateau lies to the north of Peshawar, and is bounded in the
south by the Hindu-Kush range. The territorial spheres of government
are extremely complicated. The Ameer of the neighbouring country of
Afghanistan claims the sovereignty over the khanates Shugnan and Roshan,
which form the larger portion of the Pamirs. Moreover, he likewise
raises pretensions to the province of Seistan, which is also claimed by
Persia. Now this province is of peculiar importance, because the English
could seize it from Baluchistan without much difficulty, and, if so,
they would obtain a strong flank position to the south of our line of
march, Merv-Herat, by way of Kandahar-Quetta.”
“The conditions are, certainly, very complicated.”
“So complicated, indeed, that for many years past we have had
differences with the English touching the frontier question. Our British
friends have over and over again forced the Ameer of Afghanistan to
send troops thither; an English expedition for the purpose of frontier
delimitation has been frequently camped on the Pamir Mountains. Of
course, in this respect, we have not been behindhand either. I myself
have before now taken part in such a scientific expedition.”
“And it really was merely a scientific expedition?”
“Let us call it a military scientific excursion!” replied the Prince,
smiling. “We had 2,000 Cossacks with us, and got as far as the
Hindu-Kush--the Baragil Pass and another, unnamed, which we called,
in honour of our colonel, the Yonov Pass. There we were confronted by
Afghan troops, and defeated them at Somatash. By order of the English,
who were paying him subsidies, Ameer Abdur-Rahman was obliged to resent
this and petition their assistance. An English envoy arrived in Cabul,
and negotiations were entered into, which we contrived to spin out
sufficiently to gain time for the erection of small forts in the Pamirs.
Finally an arrangement was arrived at in London to the effect that the
Pench should be the boundary between Russia and Afghanistan in the Pamir
territory. A few months later we were met by an English expedition on
the Sarykul; we were to determine the exact boundary-line together. It
was great fun; our English comrades tried hard not to let us see that
they had orders to be complacent. We had soon discovered it, and drew
the line just as we pleased. The upshot was that only a very narrow
strip of land between Bukhara and the Indian border remained to the
Ameer, and that he had to undertake neither to station troops there nor
to erect fortifications. Our territory had been pushed forward up to
within about twelve miles of English territory. It is there that we are
closest to India, and we can, if we choose, at any time descend from
the passes of the Hindu-Kush to the Chitral Valley, within the British
sphere of influence.”
A servant, bringing an invitation to Heideck from Mrs. Baird to dine
with them that evening, interrupted the conversation. The Captain
was scarcely able to disguise his pleasure; he had no doubt that this
invitation was due to Edith, and was happy in the prospect of seeing her
again.
“You are on good terms with the Colonel,” said the Prince, as soon as
the servant had left with Heideck’s letter of acceptance. “This can be
of the greatest assistance to you under present circumstances. Do make
him give you a passport and come with me.”
“I am sorry, Prince! I should be delighted to travel in such pleasant
company, but business keeps me here a little longer for the present.”
“Well--as you please--I must not try to over-persuade you; but I will
not abandon the hope that we shall meet again, and it is unnecessary to
assure you that you can count upon me in any situation in which you may
find yourself.”
IX
THE GERMAN EMPEROR
The German Emperor was paying his annual visit to the moors at Springe.
But this year he had little time to spare for the noble sport which
usually brought him fresh vigour and recreation in the refreshing
solitude of the forest. The telegraph was busy without interruption,
and statesmen, diplomats, and high officers arrived daily at the
hunting-box, and held long conferences with the Emperor. The windows
of his study were lit up till late at night, and the early morning
generally found the monarch again at his writing-desk.
After a night half spent at work, to-day the yearning for a breath
of fresh air had taken the Emperor at early dawn into the silent
pine-woods.
A light hoar-frost had fallen during the night, covering the ground
with fine white crystals. The shadows of dawn still lingered between
the tree-trunks. But in the east a glowing light suffused the pale,
greyish-blue sky.
The Emperor directed his gaze in that direction. He halted under a tall,
ancient fir-tree, and his lips moved in silent prayer. He asked for
counsel and strength from Him who decides the fate of nations, to
enable him to arrive at his weighty and difficult decision at this grave
crisis. Suddenly, the sound of human voices struck his ear. He perceived
two men, evidently unaware of his presence, coming towards him hard
by, on the small huntsman’s track in the wood, engaged in lively
conversation. The Emperor’s keen huntsman’s eye recognised in one of
the two tall gentlemen his Master of Horse, Count Wedel. The other was a
stranger to him.
It was the stranger who now said--
“It is a great pleasure to me, at last, to be able to talk to you
face to face. I have deeply mourned the rift in our old friendship and
fellowship. On my side, the irritation is long since past. I did not
wish to enter the Prussian service at that time, because I could not
bear the thought of our old, brave Hanoverian army having ceased to
exist, and I was angry with you, my dear Ernest, because you, an old
Hanoverian Garde du Corps officer, appeared to have forgotten the honour
due to your narrower Fatherland. But the generous resolution of the
Emperor to revive Hanoverian traditions, to open a new home to our old
corps of officers, and to inscribe our glorious emblems upon the flags
and standards of these new regiments, has made everything right. I hope
the time is not far distant when also those Hanoverians, who still hold
aloof in anger, will allow that a war lord of such noble disposition is
the chosen shepherd and leader of the universal Fatherland.”
“Well, I have never misjudged you and your iron will. Meanwhile, you
have thoroughly made acquaintance with the world, and since you are a
merchant prince of Hamburg, I suppose you are the possessor of a large
fortune.”
“My life has been both interesting and successful, but I have not got
what is best after all. I long for a sphere of activity in keeping with
my disposition. I am a soldier, as my forbears have been for centuries
before me. Had I entered the Prussian army in 1866, I might to-day be
in command, and might perhaps in a short time have the honour to lead my
corps into the field under the eyes of our Emperor himself.”
“You believe Germany will be brought into this war? Against whom should
we fight?”
“If our Emperor is really the sharp-sighted and energetic spirit for
which I take him--”
The monarch did not care to let the gentlemen talk on longer in
ignorance of his presence.
“Hallo! gentlemen!” he called out merrily. “Do not betray your secrets
without knowing who is listening!”
“His Majesty!” the Count said under his breath, taking off his hat
and bowing low. His companion followed his example, and as the Emperor
looked at him with a questioning glance, said--
“At your Majesty’s command; Grubenhagen, of Hamburg.”
The monarch’s eyes travelled over the tall, broad-shouldered figure of
the fine man, and he asked smilingly--
“You have been in the service?”
“Yes, your Majesty--as lieutenant in the Royal Hanoverian Garde du
Corps.”
“There were then commoners as officers in that regiment.”
“May it please your Majesty, my name is Baron von Grubenhagen, but the
‘Baron’ was in the way of the merchant.”
The open and manly bearing of the Baron, combined with the deference due
to his sovereign, appeared to please the Emperor. He gazed long into the
clear-cut, energetic face, with its bold and intelligent eyes.
“You have seen much of the world?”
“Your Majesty, I was in America, and for many years in England, before
entering business.”
“A good merchant often sees more than a diplomatist, for his view is
unbiassed, and freer. I love your Hamburg; it is a loyal city, full of
intelligence and enterprise.”
“The Alster people would reckon themselves happy to hear your Majesty
say so.”
“Do not the Hamburgers suffer great losses from the war?”
“Many people in Hamburg think as I do, your Majesty.”
“And what is your opinion?”
“That, under the glorious reign of your Majesty, all Germans on the
Continent will be united to one whole grand nation, to which
all Germanic races of the north will be attracted by the law of
gravitation--Danes, Swedes, and Norwegians.”
“You have the courage of your opinions.”
“Your Majesty, we live in an age, the characteristic of which is the
formation of great empires.”
The monarch interrupted him with a friendly movement of his hand.
“Let us go in to breakfast, gentlemen. Baron von Grubenhagen, you are my
guest. I shall be interested to hear more of your bold ideas.”
Immediately after his return to the hunting-box, the Imperial
Chancellor, who had arrived from Berlin by a night train, had been
announced to the Emperor. With the monarch’s suite he also was present
at the breakfast-table, probably not a little surprised to find a
strange guest in the company of the Emperor, who was evidently very
kindly disposed to him.
After breakfast, when the company were seated around the table in the
smoke-room, and when, upon a sign from the Emperor, the aide-de-camp du
jour had ordered the servants to withdraw, the Emperor William turned
with a grave face to Baron von Grubenhagen.
“And now let us hear, openly and without reserve, how, according to your
observation, the German nation regards the possibility of a war.”
The Baron raised his fine, characteristic head. Looking openly and
naturally into the Emperor’s eyes, he replied--
“Your Majesty, no one is in doubt that it would, on the one hand, be a
fatal step to declare war. By it many thousands will be sent to an early
grave, lands devastated, and commerce perhaps ruined for many long years
to come; and countless tears are the inevitable concomitants of war. But
there is a supreme law, to which all others must yield--the commandment
to preserve honour unsullied. A nation has its honour, like the
individual. Where this honour is at stake, it must not shrink from war.
For the conservation of all other of this world’s goods is dependent
upon the conservation of the national honour; where peace has to be
preserved at any price, even at the price of national honour, all the
benefits and blessings of peace will by degrees be lost, and the nation
falls a prey to its neighbours. Iron is more precious than gold, for it
is to iron we owe all our possessions. What use would be our army
and navy? They are the outward sign of the political truth, that only
courage and power are guarantees for the continuance and prosperity of
a nation. Russia and France have joined hands to fight England. And the
German nation feels it is time to take its share in these struggles. But
nowhere is there any uncertainty as to which side Germany ought to
join. Our nation has for a long time past been exasperated by English
intrigues and encroachments. The human heart knows no other feeling so
profound and powerful as the sense of justice, and the sense of justice
has constantly been wounded by England’s policy. Only one word from the
Emperor is needed to strike the deepest chords in the German soul,
and to raise a flame of enthusiasm that will swallow up all internal
dissension and all party quarrels. We must not ask what might possibly
happen; we must obey the dictates of the hour. If Germany fights with
the whole of her strength, she must be victorious. And victory is always
its own justification.”
X
FIVE LAKHS OF RUPEES
At noon Prince Tchajawadse departed northwards accompanied by his page
Georgi and his Indian servant. Heideck had observed great reserve during
the short time he had known the beautiful Circassian, and had never
betrayed that he had guessed the secret of her disguise. She seemed to
be grateful, for although they never had exchanged words, she smiled at
him and gave him very friendly glances at their chance meetings. There
could be no doubt concerning the relation of the beautiful page and his
master. Heideck may have felt some jealousy--he hardly ever had seen a
more charming girl than this Circassian beauty in her picturesque dress;
but all his thoughts were with Edith. The Russian was indeed a lucky
fellow to have found such a charming travelling companion. She never
forgot her assumed part of the page, when strangers were near, and yet
it was clear to Heideck that she in truth was master. A single glance of
her flashing eyes was sufficient to keep the Prince in order, when under
the influence of intoxicants he would have otherwise given way to his
brutal instincts. In her presence he never dared to use ambiguous and
frivolous language.
With sincere regret Heideck saw the Prince depart. He did not share the
hope, which the latter expressed to him, that they would meet again.
But he remembered him as one of his most interesting acquaintances and
a very charming comrade notwithstanding those little foibles he had
noticed.
. . . . . . .
It struck seven o’clock when Heideck in full evening dress entered the
Colonel’s drawing-room. He felt a wave of keen joy surging through him
when he noticed that it was empty, except for Edith Irwin. The horrible
events she had passed through had left her a little pale. To him she
seemed more beautiful than ever. She met him with a smile and gave him
her hand, which he kissed with great emotion.
“Mrs. Baird and the Colonel beg to be excused for a quarter of an hour,”
said she. “The Colonel has still much to do with the preparations for
the mobilisation. Mrs. Baird is suffering from one of her bad attacks of
headache and has had to lie down for a short time.”
Heideck’s face told Edith clearly enough that he gladly forgave his
host and hostess this little impoliteness. After having taken a chair
opposite hers, he began--
“I hope most sincerely, Mrs. Irwin, that you have had no annoyance on
account of my late call. All day long yesterday this was on my mind.”
With a sad smile she replied, “No, no. On the contrary, my husband has
asked me to tell you that he is very sorry not to be able to thank you
personally for your heroic behaviour. He hopes to be able to do so
later on. He has been ordered to go to Lahore in great haste and for an
indefinite period. There was not time for him to see you, in order to
thank you.”
Heideck imagined that he knew what this order meant. But he only asked:
“And are you going to stay on here under the protection of the Colonel?”
“Nothing definite has been arranged as yet. Nobody knows what may happen
to-morrow. It is certain that extraordinary events are in preparation.
In case of war, we poor women have to do as we are told, you know.”
“And the Maharajah? You have not heard about him?”
“Colonel Baird saw the Prince officially yesterday; but I do not know
anything more; I had not the courage to ask. It seems to me quite
certain that the Maharajah is hostilely disposed towards the Colonel.
The event which happened here to-day is, I think, immediately to be
connected with the Maharajah. I know the ways of these Indian despots!”
“May I venture to ask what has happened?”
“An attempt to poison the Colonel at his own table.”
“To poison the Colonel?” asked Heideck surprised.
“Yes. Colonel Baird’s habit is to drink a tumbler of ice-water before
each meal. To-day, at tiffin, the Indian butler gave it him as usual.
The water appeared to him rather cloudy. He did not drink it at once,
and after a few minutes he noticed distinctly a white sediment at the
bottom of the tumbler. When he called for the Indian butler, the man had
disappeared, and has not been found yet. That increased our suspicion
that an attempt at poisoning had been made. A small quantity of the
fluid had been put into a dish which contained the food for the dogs.
It was then placed into a rat-trap which contained five or six of these
ravenous beasts. Ten minutes later they were dead. The remains of the
water have been given to Doctor Hopkins. He is going to make a chemical
analysis, and to tell us about it at dinner-time.”
Before Heideck could find the time again to resume the discussion of
Edith’s personal affairs, Mrs. Baird came in, accompanied by the Colonel
and his adjutant. They all shook hands with him in the most charming
way, and after Doctor Hopkins had also arrived, a small man with a very
vivacious manner, they went in to dinner.
Perhaps the Colonel would have preferred that nothing should be said in
Heideck’s presence about the poisoning attempt. His wife’s impatience
and excitement, however, could not be restrained.
“Well, Doctor Hopkins,” she asked, “and what have you found?”
The Doctor evidently had been waiting for this.
“One of the most deadly poisons the Indians know,” he answered. “The
diamond powder. There is no antidote for it, and it is impossible to
trace it in the body of the poisoned person, because it is of vegetable
nature, and gets absorbed in the tissues.”
A cry of horror escaped Mrs. Baird. She covered her eyes with her hand.
Mr. Hopkins continued: “I have never before come across the diamond
powder, notwithstanding its use is said not to be uncommon. The
preparation of it is a secret, anxiously guarded by the Indian
physicians. It seems to play the same part at the Courts of the Indian
princes that the celebrated ‘aqua tuffana’ did in the Middle Ages
amongst the Italian despots.”
These learned explanations of Doctor Hopkins were not adapted to raise
the spirits of the company. Everyone remembered that this horrible
attempt had only been frustrated by a lucky chance. The Colonel,
who seemed to feel very uncomfortable on listening to the Doctor’s
conversation, gave a sign to his wife to rise, rather sooner than usual.
Tea and drinks cooled in ice were served in the verandah, charmingly
illuminated by coloured lamps. Heideck had only had eyes for Edith all
the evening. But he had avoided anxiously everything which might have
betrayed his feelings. And, even now, he would not have dared to join
her in the half-dark corner of the verandah, where she had seated
herself, unless she had called out to him asking him to take the empty
seat at her side.
“Mr. Heideck, here is another chair,” she said, in a perfectly natural
voice, drawing aside the pleats of her foulard skirt in order to let him
pass. Again their eyes met unnoticed by the others. The violent beating
of his heart would have told him that he was entirely in the thraldom of
this beautiful young woman had he not known it already.